A Tangled Tale
by dragoon811
Summary: Thanks to Ron, Hermione accidentally puts on an enchanted ring. Thankfully, Severus Snape is there to sort things out. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Original Prompt from iqeret:** Purely by accident, Hermione finds—and puts on—an enchanted ring. Whatever the consequences (and no tragedy, please!), they require Severus to step in and help sort things out (SS/HG).  
**Author's Note:** Written for the 2014 SSHG-promptfest on Livejournal. The first time I read this prompt, I misread it and was struck by a fit of giggles, for I could not for the life of me figure out why, exactly, Hermione would put on an enchanted wig. Lo and behold, for the idea took hold and I needed to make it fit a ring... I'm sorry, iqeret, for running amuck with your prompt. Thank you to the usual suspects - Toby, IM, and JM, for being my cheerleaders, and to the amazingly talented stgulik for her wonderful beta work!

* * *

**Chapter One**

''Ron, no!'' Hermione hissed, trying to pull her hand back.

''Relax, 'Mione. Just have to ask before term starts – will you marry me?'' He grinned at her, all teeth and freckles and pale blue eyes, a cheap-looking ring hovering just before her finger.

''For the love of – no!''

''Oh, thank Merlin,'' Ron said, just as Molly sobbed into her apron is dismay. Harry cheered around a mouthful of biscuits. Exasperated, Hermione tugged on her hand again.

''Ronald,'' she began warningly, but her red-headed friend just laughed and rose as he pulled her into a hug. ''Um, Ron, you _do_ know I just turned you down, right?''

''Well, yeah.'' He drew back to look at her, blue eyes completely guileless. ''Mum's been ragging on about it — she wants to see all of us kids in domestic bliss, and was convinced you secretly still wanted me. Oh, don't make that face, I was fairly certain you'd say no.''

Hermione spared a glance at Molly, who was being comforted by a rather put-upon Arthur who looked like he'd much rather be fiddling with the dental floss she'd brought. Secretly still wanted Ron? She scoffed. For Merlin's sake, Molly had been the one to put Ron to rights after the screaming row they'd had well over a year ago. Undoing the various creative hexes should really have been a flashing sign telling the motherly woman that they made better friends than lovers. ''Mum'll come around, 'Mione, don't worry.''

''I can't believe you bought a bloody ring,'' she muttered.

''Nah. I filched it off the scrap pile at work.''

''Ron!''

''Hey! It's just junk but looked like the right sort of bauble from Mum's distance. You can keep it. You know, to remember me.'' He pressed it into her hand with a grin.

Hermione tried to be angry with him — really, she did — but he was one of her oldest friends and she knew he'd meant well. She sighed and stuck the cheap little ring into her pocket. ''Molly's going to kill you, you know.''

''Nah. You should probably sneak out before Dad calms her down, though. She's been a bit wedding-mad since Perce the prat proposed to Penelope the public relations officer.'' Ron rolled his eyes, telling her just what he thought of his brother's 'sensible and solid' choice. ''She can't get her hands on Charlie from here, leaving me and Harry the brunt of it. I figured your refusal would give her a kick in the arse to drop it. Er, for a little while, at least.''

''You're incorrigible.''

Ron grinned. ''Definitely.''

She spared a glance at the Weasleys, and Harry made shooing motions with his hands. Definitely time to escape. Giving Ron one last hug and a wave to Harry, Hermione grabbed her bag and headed for the door. She paused just outside of the Burrow to check her hair in the window. She frowned at the stray curl escaping what had not two hours ago been a perfectly manageable, shoulder-length plait and dug around in her pocket for a hairpin. Tonight was to be her first official dinner as the new Transfiguration Professor for years one through five. Even if she _had_ been settling in and lesson-planning in her new classroom at Hogwarts over the summer, she wanted to make a good impression on the staff who didn't stay at the castle year round.

Her fingers found the warm thin metal of her pin, not realising that one finger had slipped just inside of the band of the ring from Ron. It slid into place, tightening. Scowling at her reflection, Hermione wrangled the curl into place, trying unsuccessfully to smooth out the frizz. On the third try she managed to jab her fingers, wishing fervently that she had the hair of almost anyone else she knew. Offhand, Hermione could only think to not want Harry's hair with its habit of never laying flat, Hagrid's hair was worse than hers, and she didn't want Professor Snape's oily hair, either.

Severus now, she reminded herself firmly. They were colleagues now. When she'd asked Hagrid if she should call him Rubeus, the half-giant had laughed through half a mug of tea (better known as tar) before he'd realised she was serious and kindly informed her that he preferred Hagrid.

When she'd asked Prof- _Severus_ -if he minded if she used his given name he'd given her a long look before snidely replying that she'd do what she thought best, but unless she wanted the little imbeciles to think she was another student, perhaps calling him by his title was not the most intelligent decision.

Hermione headed down the Burrow's walk with a faint smile. The school had been mostly empty all summer: the only staff who seemed to leave as little as possible were Irma Pince (who had no other residence, Hermione was certain), Hagrid (of course), Minerva (although she left often to tend to school business), and Severus. The last had grudgingly allowed her to draw him into conversation on a regular basis. She would have thought them friends, but when she'd hesitantly asked, he'd gone quiet for a long moment before telling her simply he had no interest in such a thing.

''Well, we're sort of friends,'' she muttered. He wasn't quite as grumpy as he thought he was — he'd even let her rant in the staff room when she'd ended things with Ron, and he didn't let most people carry on like that. She kicked a pebble idly. If she was honest, she rather liked him. More than liked. She loved to be near him. He smiled sometimes, and it was a lovely thing to see. Usually it was an upturn of his lips, quick to show but slow to fade. Rare was the smile showing any his uneven teeth. But her favorite was when just one corner of his mouth tugged briefly. That smile was one she'd never seen until she'd pinned him alone in the staff room the second time, demanding he stop trying to treat her like a student.

Hermione sighed, returning Ginny's wave as the red-head swooped down towards the Burrow on her new broom.

In love with Severus Snape. Right. Well, that was a bit of a pickle. There was no way he'd be at all interested in a woman he couldn't even view as a friend, let alone one who used to be his student and couldn't contain her hair for more than five damn minutes. No matter how much she wanted him to be.

Reaching the end of the dusty lane, she looked back one last time before pushing her futile wishes out of her head and turning into herself with a sharp pop.

* * *

The stone of the parapet dug sharply into his palms but he ignored it, blocking out the unwanted sensation. He was used to dull pain — his neck _still_ throbbed painfully in the cold. It was enough to make him consider actually relocating to the teacher's tower, even if it did mean leaving behind his laboratory. Hell, the wind along the tops of the walls would have been too much if he didn't wear such high collars. And yet, here he stood, staring out past the lake in the general direction of Hogsmeade. The wind was bitter despite the heat of the sun — it had likely been unwise to be wearing unrelieved black, and even less wise for him to be standing out in the sun with his pallid complexion.

With his luck, his nose would burn, revealing his folly to all and sundry.

A lone figure appeared, trudging up the path to the school and his chest tightened. The discomfort was nothing new as he watched Hermione Granger finally returning to the school. His shoulders relaxed somewhat. She was back, and even looked to be in moderately good spirits. Severus debated his chances of her cornering him again in the staff lounge. High.

It appeared that she had only her bag with her, so she hadn't stopped by a bookstore. That meant she would be in the castle within a quarter hour, and in the lounge in a half-hour. Excellent. He sighed, squelching the urge to shade his eyes for a better view.

He hadn't _meant_ to take a fancy to anyone, let alone her.

Yet here he was, trying desperately not to let the past repeat itself. No following her around or trying to change how he presented himself. No settling for simple friendship. He wanted more than that, or at least a chance for it.

Pity she hadn't caught on yet. It was difficult to gauge if she felt anything more for him than a desire for a friend. Perhaps it was best that she hadn't noticed yet. He never had handled rejection well, and he knew he was just pathetic enough to keep pulling her into discussions and the occasional card game to have even a taste of affection.

Severus watched her a moment longer, her messy braid bouncing against the small of her back in the warm summer sun, before turning in a flurry of robes. The wind caught at his clothes, giving it just the right amount of billow, and he strode off to the staff lounge. He had approximately twenty-five minutes to settle in and pretend as if he wasn't waiting for her again.

* * *

''What the hell did you do to your hair?'' he barked as she entered the staff room. He was scowling at her head rather fiercely.

Hermione frowned. ''It's a plait.''

''I meant the bloody red, not to mention the need for a trim. I never took you for one to frequent a salon and dally with experimental spells.''

''I didn't!'' Hermione stormed over to his favourite worn leather chair and the polished game table, dumping her books on the rather cozy armchair opposite. She reached up to pull her hair around to show him. ''I washed it, combed it, put it - ...'' She faltered, then said in a very small voice, ''Severus? This … isn't how it looked this morning.''

Her fingers trembled as she pulled on her hair. What had not an hour ago been a frizzy braid that just brushed her shoulders was now a waist-long braid that _ended_ in her own brown hair before fading to curls that looked distinctly like Molly's followed by Arthur's thin muddy-orange. She had a sinking suspicion that the rest of the length contained Ron's hair as well.

Severus levered himself out of his chair, alarmed. ''Did you ingest anything while you were in the presence of Mister Weasley?''

''No, George wasn't there.'' His concern was touching.

''Touch anything you shouldn't have?'' He peered at her hair. She had what appeared to be four different tones of red, the fourth just showing at the roots. Dark red: likely the girl's. Curious. He didn't know of any spell or potion that could produce such results.

''No?'' Hermione blinked rapidly. Severus was close enough to touch her and she could smell whatever cologne he used — it was intoxicating and distracting.

''No?'' He raised an eyebrow, lips pursed. She shook her head, finally noticing the weight of her hair. What was going on? What had happened? ''When did you last see your hair?''

''Before I left, I pinned some back because it was loose. It was normal, I swear!'' Panic tinged her voice and he steered her to his armchair, forcing her to sit. ''Ron proposed, knowing I'd say no. Harry'd already been quietly talking to Arthur — I know he recently bought a ring for Gin, actually. Molly started crying, Ron told me it was a ploy and he knew I'd turn him down. He'd used some junk ring from the shop. I left while Molly was distracted — she's got this delusional notion that Ron and I should get back together, you see, and is apparently rather wedding mad to boot. I fixed my hair, walked to the end of the lane, Apparated to the gates here … then stopped by my room. Maybe Peeves?''

Severus shook his head, lank hair brushing his shoulders. His nose looked oddly large at this angle and he bent over her head, nostrils flared as if he could scent whatever magic had caused it. ''Peeves would have swooped in long ago to brag, I'm afraid. Hold still.''

''Oh.'' Hermione sat stock-still as he drew his wand and began flicking it at her in between muttered spells. The lines on his face deepened as he snarled and cast more vehemently. At one point his wand nearly jabbed her in the nose and she flinched. He stepped back, slipped his wand up his sleeve, and crossed his arms over his chest.

''Congratulations, you've got a mystery curse.''

''At least it's a curse.'' She paused a moment. ''Did you try a Finite?''

Severus looked insulted and ignored her hopeful question. ''What did you partake of at the Weasley residence?''

''Tea — I brewed it myself, actually. I was the first one up for once.'' He was studying her intently and she flushed, trying to recall. ''Ginny was down not long after and we made breakfast for everyone. I showered, packed, went over some last-minute forms for the Ministry and sent them off so I'm all official now. After, I helped Harry and Molly make sandwiches at lunch. I know you don't have a very high opinion of him, but Harry knows how important this is and he wouldn't prank me or hex me with anything, either! And Ron was out back on his broom! Arthur was in the garage and it was just the three of us —''

''Cease your rambling,'' he snapped irritably. He could actually see her hair growing and it was a tad disconcerting how quickly the changes took effect. ''The diatribes are of no use. Details, but be concise.''

Hermione took a deep breath. ''Right. So, lunch. We sat around chatting, well, they talked about Quidditch and I may have tuned them out. Molly made biscuits, I didn't partake. Around tea time, Ron took my hand and proposed. I said no, he laughed, Molly cried, Harry cheered. Ron even let me keep the silly ring. I left after, waved hullo to Madam Rosmerta on my way past Hagrid's. That's it. A very boring, uneventful day.''

''It's turning blonde and brown with a bit of a wave now,'' Severus told her conversationally. One long finger traced his lips: was it his imagination or was she watching it? ''You said Weasley told you to keep the ring and it was from his brother's joke shop. Do you still have it?''

''It's in my pocket, though it may have fallen when I got a hairpin out.'' Hermione arched awkwardly in the chair to access the small pocket. She frowned, feeling nothing but the few Knuts and Sickles she kept on her. ''It's gone!''

As she withdrew her hand, Severus snatched at her wrist and held the appendage up grimly. ''Not gone.'' He withdrew a handkerchief with his spare hand to protect his own fingers and tugged on the ring experimentally. It didn't budge. The wand came next, but whatever compilation of spells had been cast on it had been muddled and mutated into the curse manifesting itself before them. Hermione was quiet as she watched him, concern evident on her pretty features. ''What is it with you bloody Gryffindors and cursed jewelry?''

''Do you think I'll need St. Mungo's?'' she asked softly. Her past experiences involving jewelry with nefarious intent had been a locket that had required a great many mood-adjusting potions along with some very careful Muggle therapy, a necklace that had nearly killed a classmate, and, of course, the bloody ring that had done in Dumbledore.

Severus shook his head, unaware he was still holding her wrist. ''It doesn't seem to be worth admitting you to the hospital quite yet, though we shall need to monitor you closely. I'll have Minerva owl Poppy, see if she can return early to keep a close watch on you.''

Hermione looked uncomfortably up at him. ''I don't want to be a bother …''

''A bother?'' Severus snorted, selecting a second teacup with one elegant hand, filling it to her preferred level and adding two sugars before handing it to her. ''You're suffering from a mysterious curse that I've never seen before and will likely take days if not weeks for me to unravel, yet you do not wish to _bother_ the professional whose job it is to ensure your welfare?''

She flushed and looked away under the pretense of taking a gulp of tea. Hot tea. Hermione spluttered a moment, coughing. She heard him sigh and his handkerchief was thrust in front of her face.

''I do believe one is meant to _drink_ a cup of tea.''

Fingers trembling, she took the proffered cloth and wiped her mouth before dabbing ineffectively at her shirt.

''For the love of Merlin …'' Severus flicked his wand at her, drying her. ''Calm down, Granger.''

''I keep telling you to call me Hermione,'' she told him. He returned her gaze, inscrutable.

''Yes, you do. I'll fetch Minerva.'' Before she could retort or thank him he'd spun on one heel to stalk from the room, robes billowing behind him. She watched him go with a pang.

Always 'Granger', or 'Professor Granger', if he was in front of others and feeling generous. The thought made ice settle in the pit of her stomach. He wouldn't even contemplate letting her be his friend, not really, though she'd thought they were until she'd asked. While his gentleness to her was not unusual anymore, it still made her hope that maybe, just maybe, her feelings could someday be returned.

Feeling petulant, Hermione took cautious sip of her tea. Was it too much to ask that he at least consider friendship with her? They talked for hours. He smiled when she was amusing (intentionally or not). She sniffled, trying to ignore the way her scalp was now prickling, and sighed heavily.

What was she going to do?

* * *

Severus consciously slowed his walk to accommodate Minerva's pace, fighting to keep his face impassive. Hermione was under a curse; why couldn't the witch move faster? Hell, he'd even deign to cart her around if she'd use her Animagus form. But no, Minerva strolled through the halls to the staff lounge, an exasperated look on her face. Her meeting could wait until later, in Severus's opinion — one of her staff, her _replacement_ — was in need of assistance.

Hermione was dozing in 'his' armchair. Her hair had seemed to have stopped growing for the moment. All told, the braid (or what was left of it) dangled down off the chair, ending in an untidy heap. Severus frowned. Ginevra and Rosmerta must have longer hair than he had thought. He could barely see his newest coworker's own lovely locks poking from the bottom of the pile.

Minerva's gasp of shock woke Hermione, who flailed in the leather chair before sliding off onto the floor with an audible thump. ''Merlin's beard! What happened!''

''I told you,'' Severus growled, stepping forward to haul the witch off the carpet. ''She's cursed.''

''Piffle.'' His eyebrows shot up and he barely restrained himself from throttling the headmistress. That was all she could say? ''Let me see the ring, dear.'' Hermione held out her hand and Minerva inspected the innocent-looking thing through her glasses before casting several spells at it, but not nearly as many as he had. ''Well, that's not good... I think you're right, Severus. Let me ask Poppy if she can make it back early.''

Minerva left the room with a swish of tartan robes, her lips thinned disapprovingly.

''Severus?'' Hermione was looking up at him, concerned, and he realised he was staring at her in growing horror.

''Your hair.''

''Yes, I know,'' she snapped impatiently.

He huffed. ''I mean it's bloody growing again.''

''Again?'' Severus winced as the shriek assailed his tender ears and promptly transfigured a mirror from the tea tray. Hermione moaned in dismay at the iron grey showing at her roots. ''It's so fast...''

''Obviously.'' He stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. Should he leave? Should he be staying here? Why was he always so wrong-footed around women he was interested in?

''Has Irma opened the library today?''

''If not, she is assuredly inside,'' he told her with a sneer, crossing his wool-clad arms over his chest. ''I suppose you are in need of an escort?''

She gave him a tentative smile. ''Is that an offer?''

His heart pounded a moment — damn! What was he supposed to say? How much would he reveal if he acquiesced? He wanted to go with her, but therein lay the problem. Severus was saved having to reply by Hermione gathering up her hair.

''Guess not,'' she muttered, and stalked off down the hall, her hair slowly growing.

_Damn it._ Severus watched her go with a pang. His lips parted to call out to her, but no sound issued forth despite the words clamoring in his heart. Maybe … maybe he should try to show her how he felt. Just a little.

* * *

_**Chapter Two shall be posted ****soon!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

He found her in the library a short while later, surrounded by stacks of books and a scroll of parchment nearly as long as her hair, which trailed down an entire row of shelves the end nearly at his feet. She was actually quite attractive with Irma's dark hair around her heart-shaped face. His mind wandered for a moment and he jerked back out of daydreams with conscious effort.

Hermione sighed, dipping her quill into the green inkwell hovering by her hand, adding notes next to the cramped block of red writing. ''What do _you_ want?''

Flinching at the coldness in her voice, Severus paused before speaking. ''I came to return a book. And I thought that perhaps while I was here I could see if you required any … assistance.''

The first was a half-truth, for he'd selected a book at random to return. When he'd handed it to Irma, he'd seen that he was not, in fact, finished with the volume, but considered the annoyance worth checking on her. That she was sprouting Irma's hair came of no surprise — he'd already figured that particular part of her curse out.

''Oh.'' Hermione tried not to sound as crestfallen as she felt to be a secondary thought. There was no way he'd come primarily to check on her. ''Thank you. I'm sorry to be an inconvenience to you.''

''You are no such thing,'' Severus chided before he could stop himself. Brown eyes met black as she regarded him in surprise. He marveled at the blush of pink on her cheeks. Was she embarrassed, or did she perhaps harbor some affection for him? Damn, he couldn't tell. ''What have you found thus far?''

''Other than I'm an atrocious red-head, but don't look too bad in black?'' A wry grin twisted her lips. ''Not much. I'm not sure what traces you found on the ring, or what spells were originally used. Right now I'm just doing general research on curses, how to remove cursed objects …''

''What about your hair?'' he interjected, curious. ''When the curse is removed, will it revert to normal? Will your hair all fall out and begin to grow normally?''

Hermione paled as she stared at him and he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Usually that waited until the arrival of students. ''You didn't even consider it, did you?'' She shook her head. ''What about if you cannot undo this before term begins? Will you cart your hair around everywhere? Will you cut it off daily as it grows with different lengths and colors? Can it _be_ cut?''

''Oh dear Merlin …I didn't even …''

''Come with me.'' Hermione tidied her things with a swish of her wand, sending the books back to their proper places, and Severus moved down the aisle to gather her hair. He started with the end – her familiar curls were as silken as he'd thought and he fought the urge to bury his nose in them. Instead, he merely gathered armfuls of brown, red, blonde, and grey. He led the way to his quarters, Hermione following him.

_I've got her on a leash,_ he thought a bit madly. How he'd once have loved to have the girl — and her cohorts — on a leash and out of trouble. And of course, now that she was _in_ trouble she was on the damn leash!

''Screechsnap,'' he snarled at the portrait guarding his quarters. It leapt open, knowing better than to chat or dare ask any nosy questions. It had taken a mere two incidents involving turpentine for the portrait to learn, which was a better learning curve than most of his students. ''Do not touch anything.''

He dumped her hair on the low couch and she took a seat, looking around her with interest. Severus disappeared through another door with a muttered password — likely his private lab, she thought. She hadn't expected his quarters to be so … so. Somehow, she'd have thought there would be some measure of comfort. The rooms she could see looked barely lived-in. His desk was clear with the exception of a shiny black quill on its rest and a very, very large bottle of red ink clearly awaiting essays to grade. Even the sitting room was devoid of more than minimal furnishings. The shelves were polished, the books neatly in place and arranged by subject. There was a distinct lack of windows, but the sconces provided enough light for her to notice that the couch lacked throw pillows and the beautiful quilt tossed haphazardly over the arm had seen many years by his side.

Was it wrong to be jealous of a quilt? Hermione glowered into the fire keeping the room warm despite the perpetual chill and tucked her legs up under her. She was being silly — of all the things to worry about! Still … she couldn't help but feel wondrous that he'd allowed her into his quarters. She yawned. That fire really did its job, and the heat was making her sleepy.

* * *

He was inordinately thankful that no students were around to see him striding from the laboratory to his office and back again with various dangerous-looking implements floating sedately along behind him. It would be worse, he mused, if onlookers knew the sharp objects were intended for use on another professor. Ah, well, couldn't be helped. For a moment he was actually quite sorry that no one was there to witness, for he was certain it would have earned him at least a week of well-behaved classes if they'd thought he was willing to carve up the famous Hermione Granger.

The scissors scraped dangerously near his gaunt cheek as he stopped in the doorway, but he couldn't be arsed to care. She was asleep again. _What the hell?_ By her account, Hermione had had a pleasant morning. There was no reason for such lassitude. Concern drew his brows tight as he hastened to her side, kneeling by the sofa.

He fumbled for her free wrist, pressing two pale fingers against the delicate blue vein. For a moment Severus thought the pulse was his own heart, but the beat under the pads of his fingers was slow and steady compared to the beat in his throat.

He began casting another series of diagnostic spells.

Various shades of yellow and orange glimmered off of her hair, lighting her serene features. He'd never really had the opportunity to watch her sleep before today, and she was … lovely. Even the soft snores she emitted weren't grating as he had imagined such sounds would be. He wondered if she stole the covers, then flushed as he realised he'd been envisioning her in _his_ bed. The results of his spells didn't indicate anything alarming, just exhaustion likely caused by the growing of so much hair, so he shook her tentatively.

''Mmm.'' Hermione nestled deeper in the cushion and he scowled, shaking her more vigorously.

''Wake up,'' he hissed. Her eyes flew open and she looked startled before letting out a blood-curdling scream. Severus fell over backwards, his bony arse hitting the ground and he winced.

Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed, before pointing at the cutlery floating above him. ''What the hell, Severus! I only fell asleep, you can't use me as potion ingredients!''

''For the love of — Granger, calm down!'' He flicked his wand and they settled gently to the floor. Severus levered to his feet, towering over her. She quieted immediately. ''It may have escaped your notice, Granger, but before you decided to take a nap we had been discussing an attempt at cutting your hair. I have gathered several items to try.''

''Oh.'' Well, now she felt silly. Hermione sat up, her hand lingering over the softness of the quilt she'd been resting against before peering sheepishly up at him from under her lashes. ''I'm sorry, Severus.'' He certainly looked intimidating, sneering down his nose at her. ''Er — What did you come up with?''

''To start, I thought that perhaps we would try scissors. They are, after all, the tried and true method of cutting. May I?'' He was being so courteous … Hermione felt her cheeks warm as she nodded and handed him the end of her hair. Severus sat next to her, so close she could feel his body heat and see the stitching on his buttonholes. The scissors closed around her hair, just below Molly's color. Nothing happened. ''It was worth a try.''

She watched as he discarded the scissors on the low table, selecting a knife. ''Silver, of course.'' Nothing happened. Severus frowned and tried several other wicked-looking instruments. Finally he picked up a pair of heavy shears. ''Iron, should do the trick.''

''Why do you even _have_ those?'' Hermione cried in dismay as he wrestled them with both hands.

''Harvesting feyvine,'' he told her. ''The iron makes their inherent magic inert long enough to be cut.'' He closed the shears — they snipped but didn't cut her hair at all. She hoped her locks hadn't dented the damn things, for Severus glowered at her hair as if it had personally offended him, dropping the tool on the floor with an annoyed snarl. ''I was hoping for a similar effect here.''

The way he grumbled made her smile. She glanced at the small clock on his mantle. ''Well, it's alright. I'm no worse off. Shall we test if it grows in the presence of the same people and see about dinner?''

''Perhaps.'' Severus rose from the couch and gathered her hair with a long-suffering look.

''I can do that,'' Hermione offered but he merely raised an eyebrow at her. ''Really, I don't want to you to have to …'' His glare deepened, daring her to argue. She rolled her eyes. ''Fine. See if I care if you look like a hen-pecked — oof!''

She spun and glared at the man who had yanked on her hair. Severus stood tall, with as much dignity as a man holding mounds of multicolored hair could muster. ''I would not say such things if I were you,'' he purred dangerously in a silken tone. ''Someone could misconstrue a statement like that as an invitation to fulfill the rest of that particular description.''

Hermione gaped at him, unsure what to answer until he swept past her and she was forced to trot along behind him, led by the hair in his arms.

* * *

Severus forced himself to display no outward emotion as he mechanically lifted his soup spoon to his mouth. What had made him _flirt_ with her? Of all possible things to say in that moment, he had _flirted_. On one hand, she had not outright rejected him as he had feared would be the case. On the other, she seemed … confused as the night progressed. Poppy had not yet appeared and curiously, she had not sprouted Hagrid's hair when the half-giant had staggered raucously into the hall ten minutes past the start of the meal. Another puzzle of her curse.

Hermione, for her part, was trying to stop her heart from beating against her ribs like a frantic caged bird. She was fairly certain that Severus had just flirted with her. In fact, she would have called that coming on rather strongly, as the saying went. It was confusing — the man didn't even want to be friends with her. Hadn't she just reflected on that earlier after fixing her hair? She paused, her salad fork halfway to her mouth.

Fixing her hair. Hadn't she, just for a moment, wished for someone — anyone — else's hair? _It's the ring,_ she thought suddenly. Her fork clattered to her plate, spilling greens everywhere._She_ had done this. She'd set it off! And maybe her second musing about wanting Severus was prompting the care and concern he was showing. Yes, that had to be why. He didn't desire friendship with her, and now he'd been carting her hair around … And just as she'd been beginning to hope she'd stood a chance. Tears stung her eyes as she stood abruptly and excused herself despite the protests and concern of her colleagues, determined to make it to her chambers before allowing herself to have a good cry.

Severus watched her go, warring between chasing after her like a lovesick fool and remaining where he was in case Poppy managed to drag herself to the school anytime soon. He'd been planning to suggest Hermione owl the Weasleys, find out where, exactly, the incompetent fool had gotten the ring and what had been done to it before it came into her ownership. There was a slim chance the twin had managed to retain his notes. One of the two always had and he couldn't for the life of him remember which of them it was. If George Weasley wasn't the one who did, Hermione was likely going to need to rely on luck to undo her curse.

* * *

_Well,_ she thought to herself as she took another bite of ice cream and dabbed ineffectually at her eyes with Severus's handkerchief from earlier, _Hermione, you've really messed this up. If you confess, he'll never trust you again and you'll never have a chance with him. And if you don't confess and he finds out, he'll never trust you again and you'll never have a chance with him. And if you don't confess your hair will probably strangle you in your sleep, the curse will likely break, he'll realise what happened, and probably not even come to your funeral._

Regardless of how she looked at it, she was well and truly doomed. _At least now you know that you can't copy an elf's hair … or lack thereof._ The thought didn't cheer her up, nor did the fudge dripping from her sundae spoon. Alright so the latter did help a little. She sniffled. Why couldn't she have just asked him out when she'd first realised she liked him? At least then she would have had a chance of shifting his opinion of her … But this … Sometimes she hated magic. She knew Severus well enough to know that if thought he'd been used or manipulated, she'd never worm her way into his heart.

Hermione sighed, feeling rather pitiful. Cursed, doomed romantically, and out of ice cream. She debated summoning another elf, trying to convince herself she wasn't _really_ putting the creatures out. (Minerva would still not hear a single word about Elf Rights, to her chagrin.) On the other hand, she didn't want to cart her hair all the way down to the kitchen, either, just for a sundae she probably didn't even really need.

Now she was starting to see why Dumbledore kept sweets in his office. So much easier.

Making a mental note to stock up at the first Hogsmeade weekend — assuming she was not rendered immobile by her hair — Hermione wondered how she was going to rectify the situation when a sudden thought struck her. How the hell was she going to brush her hair? Wash it? How long was it going to get? Would she have to rely on the elves for assistance? What if she never broke the curse and had to teach classes looking like a mad escapee from a fairy tale?

A knocking at the door saved her from her tumbling thoughts and she hastened to answer it, tripping over her hair in her haste and scraping her knee against the stone floor. She hissed in pain, rose, and yanked her hair out of her way before throwing her door open with a bang to rival Severus's penchant for theatrics.

''Oh. Hello, Minerva, Madam Pomfrey.''

''You can call me Poppy, dear.'' The Mediwitch told her affectionately, dismay creeping into her expression. Hermione rightly took that to mean that her hair was growing again with Poppy Pomfrey's white. Perfect. ''This is a problem, isn't it?''

Minerva frowned. ''Is Severus here?''

''No,'' Hermione replied. ''I haven't seen him since I left dinner.''

The headmistress scowled and turned to a nearby portrait. ''Fetch Professor Snape to Professor Granger's chambers. Tell him Poppy's here.''

The figure in the painting disappeared immediately, and Hermione moved to let the other women into her rooms. She was inordinately grateful that she had just moved in so that everything was tidy, as she tended to swing between creative chaos and obsessive tidiness once she was properly settled. Before she could protest, Minerva had called an elf, ordering tea for four. The service appeared in short order, a knit cozy wrapped around the pot, just as an authoritative rap sounded off her door.

''Don't trouble yourself,'' Minerva commanded as Poppy bent to examine Hermione's knee, healing it with a flick of her wand. ''Ah, Severus.''

''Minerva. Poppy.'' His eyes rested on Hermione's face, yet he didn't greet her, his gaze instead flicking down to the bloody rip on her trousers being mended by Poppy's patient wand.

''Have a seat,'' Hermione blurted, gesturing to the couch she was on, as the two salvage armchairs were taken. To her wonder, Severus closed the door and seated himself on the very edge of the cushion and accepted the floral teacup from Minerva. He looked uncomfortable.

''I assume my presence was required because of Poppy's arrival,'' Severus said stiffly. He'd never been in her quarters before. They were … comfortable, too much so. They were the kind of comfortable that made him want to stay and that was dangerous. He'd already given too much of himself away by flirting with her. Becoming comfortable in her space would be too big of an admission. He'd sooner remove his own liver and eat it in an omelet.

''Of course,'' Poppy said, and Severus set down his teacup to pull his wand from his sleeve. Displaying the results from his diagnostics, he flinched as something curled around his ankle. He exhaled noisily in relief as he realised it was merely Hermione's hair. It had grown longer, of course, and in its progress it had apparently decided to head towards him.

''Interesting diagnoses,'' Poppy murmured, and Severus agreed.

''I did take the liberty of contacting George Weasley. He will be joining us at breakfast with his notes on the ring his brother passed to you,'' said Severus. ''And if he does not show, I will drag his arse down to the school.'' The last was muttered darkly under his breath as he pondered several inventive uses for various potions. A stifled giggle from the witch on the sofa beside him told him she'd heard him and he felt a small glow that she'd been amused.

Minerva nodded. ''I'll make sure there's a place set for him. You said you tried cutting the hair, Severus?''

''He did,'' Hermione broke in, her tone grateful. ''Several things. Nothing worked.''

''Yes,'' he sneered, hunching over his teacup. ''And I had to sharpen the silver knife as well as ask Hagrid to get the nick out of my damned shears. All for naught.''

Poppy had been occupying herself by casting further charms on Hermione and was now apparently content with her results. ''Sorry to interrupt, but it appears as if aside from a touch of exhaustion from growing all that hair, you're in perfect health, Hermione. I would like to monitor you daily for any changes. Exhaustion can be tricky and we don't want you collapsing on a stairwell, so have someone escort you up to the infirmary.''

Severus bit his tongue to stop himself from volunteering.

Relieved, Hermione smiled at them all. ''Well, that at least explains the napping.''

''Next order of business,'' Minerva announce briskly, selecting a ginger newt from the tray and placing it alongside her teacup. ''We should discuss what is to be done about your hair, since it cannot be cut. You will be unable to teach in this condition.''

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but the headmistress stopped her with an upheld hand. ''I merely wish to have a plan in place. I would much prefer that we resolve this before the start of term.''

''Yes, Minerva,'' she replied meekly. Beside her, Severus shifted and took a sip of tea. Merlin save him from interminable meetings.

* * *

Hermione stared blearily at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was a mess. A complete and utter mess Tangles were everywhere, but as least her roots were slowly turning familiar brown. _Maybe it's run its course,_ she thought for one hopeful moment. _Maybe my hair will grow out and then the rest will just detach or something._

But by breakfast, her hopes had been dashed. After struggling to shower she'd given up washing the hair and had settled on several cleansing charms. It had taken three elves to get her hair brushed and braided, but at least it was clean and, thanks to the braid, a teensy bit shorter. She looked down at herself and sighed. She'd planned on wearing her normal attire, but pulling a shirt over her head was too much of an ordeal, so robes it was.

Hermione dropped her hair and plopped into the chair next to Hagrid. The half-giant pushed the teapot close to her. ''Morning, Hermione. Yeh alright?''

''Morning. Thanks, Hagrid.'' She was glad someone had filled him in on her problem. ''I'm as well as can be expected.'' She poured herself a cup of tea and glanced around the table. ''I guess everyone else is running late.''

Hagrid nodded, serving himself a veritable mountain of eggs.

Hermione was spreading jam over her toast when Minerva and Poppy came in. Minerva's lips pursed as she took her seat. ''It's still growing,'' Minerva informed her. Hermione dropped her toast and her hands flew to her head. Minerva transfigured a goblet into a mirror and handed it to her. ''Here.''

''I suppose it was too much to hope that it was stopping,'' Hermione sighed. Minerva's hair was slowly adding itself. ''Damn it …''

''Do try not to swear when the children arrive,'' the other witch observed, amused.

Poppy cast a few spells at Hermione, then nodded, satisfied with the results, before sitting down herself. ''Has Severus come and gone already?''

''He wasn't here when I came down,'' Hermione replied.

Hagrid shook his head. ''I ain't seen him.''

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall flew open with a bang as Severus stalked in, carrying a sleek black broom and pulling George along by his ear.

''ALRIGHT! GEROFF! I CAN WALK ON MY OWN!'' yowled the red-head, who was clad in particularly ugly dragonskin pajamas. ''SNAPE!''

Severus let go and the boy fell to the stone floor. ''I said be at the gates, Weasley, or I would come and fetch you. You were not.''

''You didn't have to pull me by my one good ear,'' George grumbled, clutching a sheaf of parchments. Then he happened to glance up at the table and saw Hermione and the rest staring at him open-mouthed. ''Merlin's balls … you weren't joking.''

Severus's scowl deepened. ''I am not one given to fits of speaking for my own benefit, Weasley.'' The words were purred despite their audience. ''However, I will give you leave to eat before you set about fixing the problem.''

''Right. Well. Hullo, everyone. I, er, apologise for my attire.'' George scrambled for a seat under Severus's dark gaze. The Potions Master himself took a seat at the far end of the table and promptly poured himself a large cup of coffee as if he hadn't just threatened someone in front of witnesses.

''Good morning, Mister Weasley,'' Minerva finally managed, giving Severus a reproachful look. He gathered from her expression that she'd like wish to 'discuss' this before long, and offered her a single raised eyebrow in challenge. The rest of the staff murmured various greetings as well.

'''Mione.''

''Hi George. Sausages?''

The meal was awkward after that, with stilted conversation on every topic _but_ Hermione's hair and the ring. George kept glancing at Severus as if to assure himself that talking was allowed, and Hermione couldn't really blame him. Severus seemed to have gone out of his way to be terrifying. _If it wasn't the ring influencing him, it'd be almost sweet,_ she thought. _Like he cares and was trying to show it …_

The staff soon made excuses, Poppy reminding Hermione to come up and see her by tea time for a check up, and Hermione waved weakly, already wondering how she'd get out of it. Eventually Hagrid took his leave and even Minerva found a reason to depart, leaving poor George alone with her and Severus.

The red-head gulped. ''Right. So. Ron gave you the DesireRing, did he?''

''Sort of.'' Hermione explained the situation and George shook his head.

''I'm so glad I don't live at home … Mum's on my case enough about Angelina. Still, that was pretty clever of Ron.'' Privately, Severus had to begrudgingly agree. ''I do wish he hadn't nicked the ring, though. I hadn't gotten all the enchantments off yet. Can I see it?''

She extended her hand and Severus felt the muscle in jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth. He didn't want Weasley — or any man — touching her. She was too … too … Too clever, too lovely, too perfect … _Damn it, man, stop it!_ He schooled his expression as quickly as possible while the two were busy with the ring.

To give himself further excuse to remain, he poured a fourth cup of coffee. He'd have to piss before too long, but in the meantime he could remain here and keep her under his watchful eye. It would be just like Weasley to exacerbate the problem rather than rectifying it. He scowled darkly at the coffee pot. Hopefully it would refill itself before he was reduced to drinking the swill known as dandelion juice.

George whistled low between his teeth, scratching at his head. ''This is unique. I don't know how they got all tangled like that.''

''Show us your notes,'' Hermione demanded, and George acquiesced even as Severus's eyebrows shot up. _Us?_ Granger thought of them as an us? Warmth blossomed in his chest and he desperately tried to pretend it was merely heartburn from the hollandaise sauce. ''Severus, would you come down here?''

''I can duplicate my notes —'' George's offer was drowned out as Severus scraped his chair back and promptly tripped over the hair that had wrapped itself around his legs.

Severus let loose a stream of invective that had the enchanted sky of the hall tinging pink and the insufferable Gryffindors's jaws nearly brushing their silverware. Bloody hell, that had hurt! He had certainly bruised his damned kneecaps as well as his pride. He straightened as quickly as possible, flipping his robes back down where they belonged and brushing the slight dust from his frock coat and trousers. He could feel the heat on his cheekbones from the laughter bubbling out of the Weasley's appallingly open mouth.

''Shut it, George!'' Horrified, Hermione swatted him and hurried to Severus's side. ''Oh, Merlin, are you alright? I'm so sorry, Severus, I didn't realise it had gotten so long …''

Black eyes met hers, her hand a millimeter from his cheek, and she lost her nerve to touch him.

''You look horrid with red hair,'' he said. By the fleeting look of shock that crossed his face, she didn't think he'd meant to say it.

''Yes. Well. Thank goodness this will be temporary, then,'' she retorted. ''Alternatively, Severus, you won't have to look at my hair if you'd look at the damned parchments instead.'' His eye twitched and she thought she'd gotten away with snapping at him. Plunging on, she dragged her hair out of his way and plopped back into her hair. ''Sit over here and we'll go over it all.''

To her surprise, he actually did what she bade and she couldn't help but feel the pang once more. It was likely just the ring's magic working on him. Couldn't he want to be near her without it? Treat her like a friend?

The scent of her filled his senses, but now was not the time to close his eyes and catalog each fragrance. Rare was his chance to be so close, and he wished that it was not the curse that allowed him such familiarity. Severus pushed his longing away to read Weasley's notes. There would be time for that later.

* * *

Hermione had giggled at George being unceremoniously dismissed from the Great Hall after he'd duplicated his notes for them to continue their work so that he could be at the shop on time. Poor boy had looked so bewildered when Severus shut the door behind him with a clang, leaving the two of them alone. Then again, he was probably just relieved to have escaped with his bollocks intact. Severus hadn't exactly been the soul of hospitality.

She bent over her copy, re-reading the part of on the desire-granting enchantment when Severus cleared his throat to get her attention.

''I can either fetch ink and quills or we can retire to one of our chambers,'' Severus told her without any evasion. She blinked at him, surprised. Had he just offered to let her in again?

''Yours!'' Merlin save him, she sounded entirely too cheery about that prospect. And oh, hell, now she was gathering up her hair, beaming at him expectantly. He sighed.

''Follow me, Granger.'' He collected the parchments and spun on his heel, stalking towards the back door without looking to see if she was following. His heart beat a little faster when he heard her willing footsteps behind him. She wanted to come with him! Or …was it because he was helping her? Damn it. Would he ever know?

''In,'' he snapped once he'd muttered the password for his door, holding it open for her. Was it his imagination or did Hermione blush as she passed him?

''The sitting area, or your office?'' Hermione asked politely, and he regarded her thoughtfully.

''In the sitting area. I don't want your hair to swallow my desk. I will need that once term begins.''

''Three more days until the kids arrive.'' Her tone was conversational. ''Are you ready?''

He gave her the most long-suffering look he could manage. ''Granger, I am always ready. However, at this precise moment, we need to focus on ending your curse, else come term all of Hogwarts will be rendered impenetrable by a veritable wall of hair.''

''And the last thing we want is for this to go from Rapunzel to Sleeping Beauty,'' she quipped. Hermione waited, but Severus merely looked at her impassively. A flush crept up her neck. ''Erm, because … the hair … and then if it surrounds the castle …''

''I did comprehend,'' he told her, Summoning self-inking quills and parchment to them from his desk drawers. ''Now then, let us begin with identifying which enchantments are still active …''

* * *

Hermione stretched before prodding at the ring once more. It still wouldn't budge. ''Damn.''

Severus handed her a cup of tea from the lunch tray the elves had kindly provided. He kept his feet away from the hair that had coiled itself under his chair. ''At least we have eliminated some of the charms from his list.''

''That,'' she agreed, ''or those charms merged with another. George said that it should have been temporary, that the ring should come off...''

''He's the moron who made it a self-sizing ring,'' Severus told her darkly. ''Sizing enchantments should be done by a jeweler, not a joke shop owner. Normal sizing enchantments do not cause rings to leap onto your finger, nor render the ring irremovable.''

''Well, the ring isn't also supposed to make me randomly add more hair!'' Hermione bit viciously into a watercress sandwich.

''Don't be deliberately obtuse. It's not random.'' Severus took a sip of his own tea. ''You are taking on the hair of those within a certain range, and daily. So far the only exclusions I have found are myself and Hagrid.''

''And Harry,'' she said suddenly, straightening. The fire crackled and popped, casting its light over the pair of them. ''Harry was at the Burrow and I don't have his untidy mop in here anywhere!''

Severus's eyes narrowed. ''What do you think of Hagrid's hair?'' His voice was mild. Too mild.

''It's worse than mine,'' she admitted. ''It's matted and I think there's a perpetual bit of pomade stuck in it.''

''And mine?'' he purred.

Oh, this was dangerous territory. ''I think that while your hair could use a change in shampoo to one meant for oily hair,'' she began diplomatically, ''I honestly can't imagine you without your hair.''

''To the point, Granger.'' His nostrils flared - Severus was losing patience.

''Your hair is greasy and I would never ever want it sprouting from my head!'' Hermione blurted. His eyes crinkled in amusement as her free hand slapped over her mouth.

''At least that answers that.'' He added it to his notes in his cramped and spiky script.

''That's it? You're not angry?''

Severus raised an eyebrow at the witch trailing her fingers over his ancient quilt, fervently wishing it was he she was exploring so tenderly. ''Granger, do you think that I am unaware of my appearance and the general opinion regarding it?''

She squirmed on the couch. ''No.''

''Then there is nothing more to discuss. Consider my usual temperament suspended for the moment — we are trying to rectify this before term, and it is not the place for you to withhold information.'' Hermione nodded and he continued, satisfied. ''Good.'' Severus scratched at an itch on his over-large nose. ''So it appears your hair is influenced by the ring, which is responding to your wish to, as you said, have almost anyone else's hair.''

Curious was the color on her cheeks, and he dismissed it as embarrassment. He couldn't truly blame the witch for being self-conscious about her appearance. It happened to him on occasion — admittedly less often over the last few years, but still.

''—Bloody hell, what's happening to your hair now?''

''What?''

''It's turning blonde.''

''_What?_'' Hermione conjured a mirror as there was a familiar knock on Severus's chamber door.

''Stay here and be quiet,'' he ordered, rising. He brushed away the tail end of her hair that had crept up behind the chair and draped itself over the back to tickle his face, carefully stepping over the overly-long braid. He closed the sitting room door behind him partway for good measure.

Severus yanked his chamber door open at the second, more insistent knock. ''What the hell do you want, Lucius?''

The blond tsk'd softly, his cane tapping against the bald stone floor as he pushed past. ''And here I thought I'd trained you with better manners by now.''

''I have manners,'' Severus snarled.

''Yes, it's displaying them you have trouble with.'' Lucius surveyed the entryway and the door with interest.

''What are you even doing at Hogwarts?'' Exasperated, Severus attempted to corral his friend.

''The governors and I are taking a bit of a stroll through with your Headmistress. We were passing by and I thought I'd drop in for a brief chat.''

''All of the governors?'' Severus blanched. ''How close?''

Lucius chuckled. ''Afraid they'll attempt to convince you to take McGonagall's post again?''

He snorted. ''Merlin, no. I believe the scathing missives I directed their way last year may have gotten it through their thick skulls.''

''Of course.'' Lucius waited expectantly, but Severus didn't invite him in.

''I am in the middle of a project, so I am afraid we will need to converse out here.''

''Ah. Tell me does this project have anything to do with your l-''Severus flicked his wand and cast a Muffliato, ''-love for that Muggleborn?''

''Oh, you've learned to say it right,'' he replied snidely. His heart was pounding against his ribs. What if Hermione had heard? She'd storm out and he'd never be able to get close to her again. ''And in a roundabout way, yes. She has a problem and I am providing assistance.''

''Just tell the witch how you feel and be done with it. Worst possible outcome is rejection, and you can easily deal with that.''

''We have met before, haven't we?'' The sarcasm wasn't lost on his blond friend, who laughed, overjoyed.

''Ah, Severus, I never tire of our conversations.'' Lucius pretended to examine his immaculate black leather gloves, then paused delicately. ''—And what, pray tell, is that?''

''Oh, _hell_.''

''Is Hagrid breeding _more_ illegal animals I'm going to have to hide from the board because you harbor some soft emotion for the oaf?''

Horrified, Severus stared at the tail of hair slowly growing from the sitting room. ''That would be the bit of curse trouble we're having.''

''Curse? I see,'' Lucius replied mildly as the hair reached Severus's foot. ''I'll let you get back to that, then. By the way, have you tried True Love's Kiss?''

''Get out,'' he snarled, pointing towards the door. ''She doesn't feel that way for me.''

''_That_ says differently,'' he replied with an incline of his blond hair. Lucius stepped to the door. ''Tell me, how many times has it reached to you? Haven't you noticed how she looks at you? Say something before the bossy witch gives up.''

Severus stared at the closed door for a long moment, speechless. When he finally managed to cancel his spell and return to the sitting room, Hermione was asleep on the couch wrapped securely in his frayed quilt. Her hair had grown blonde and a rich brown already and was heading for grey. With ten members of the board left to go, it was no wonder she was exhausted. Still … she was supposed to check in with Poppy, wasn't she?

His fists clenched indecisively before he relented and gathered her carefully into his arms. After all, he reassured himself, Poppy had said for her to be escorted.

* * *

_Chapter 3, the final chapter, shall be up soon! _


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: Ah, the final chapter! I truly hope that you've enjoyed this silly little tale. Thank you for reading!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Severus had never been so annoyed in his life. Once again, he only had himself to blame — _he_ had been the one to suggest she remain here last night so that he could attempt once more to cut her hair once her own natural locks had grown out again, after all. What he had not counted upon was the rest of the staff arriving by dinnertime.

That had caused a problem come morning, for during the night, Hermione's mad hair had managed to get from the couch, under the doorframe, into his bedroom and up onto the bed. He was thoroughly vexed as he spat hair out of his mouth, then set about trying to disentangle himself. Lucius's words from yesterday, which he had tried so bloody hard to block out, rang in his ears. He stumbled over the last of her hair, his feet hitting the cold floor. ''Bollocks,'' he muttered, shoving the hair further onto the bed and shuffling over to his bathroom. He was far too warm, having slept fully dressed. ''Too bloody early …''

He stared at his haggard reflection before grabbing his toothbrush, wondering when Hermione would wake. Sleep had not come quickly for him, not with the thought of her so close. That she felt safe in his presence, to sleep alone in his rooms … Dare he hope that Lucius was right?

''Bugger all.'' Severus locked the bathroom door and turned the shower on. He couldn't wait to get under the hot water.

* * *

Hermione stretched luxuriously on the enlarged couch. She felt _wonderful_. The best night's sleep she'd had in weeks. To be allowed into his rooms, to sleep here surrounded by his scent and snuggled warmly under his quilt with her head resting on one of _his_ pillows … It was a dream come true. She sighed happily.

It was several minutes before she could rouse herself, throwing off the quilt and baring her shoulders and upper body to the chill of the room. She'd left her robe over his chair, and with the fire long out she regretted her decision to sleep only in her bra. Still.. lying on the couch with the silken touch of the blanket against her bare skin, knowing a mere door separated her from Severus … Hermione shivered and smiled, sliding her robes on.

She was perusing his bookshelf when there was tap on the door between them. ''Are you decent, Granger?''

''Only if by decent you mean dressed,'' she quipped, turning to smile at him as the door creaked open.

''Are you quite ready to try?''

''Yes, go ahead. I trust you.'' She was too busy seating herself to see the open look of longing on his angular face at her words.

''I will begin with the scissors as before,'' he told her. She turned to him and closed her eyes, preparing herself.

Hermione exhaled slowly. ''Okay. Ready.''

Severus tried to ignore her steady gaze as he went through the same routine he had yesterday with increasing frustration. The furrow between his brows grew ever deeper. Even his shears failed him, and he nearly pitched the damn things across the room in a fit of temper.

''Hold still,'' he growled, pulling his wand. Hermione didn't budge as he tried eight different cutting and severing charms, including one of his own creation. ''FUCK!''

Giggling, Hermione Summoned his wand from where it had landed. ''That's a first. I've never seen you get so frustrated you'd chuck your wand.''

''Not funny, Granger.''

She shrugged. ''Well, it was worth a try. We're just going to have to try to get the ring unstuck to end the curse. I do appreciate the help, though.'' She looked down at her hands hesitantly. ''You're a wonderful friend. I mean … if you want to be.''

Severus wavered. Should he take Lucius's advice? Risk himself and his heart? His hand brushed against hers and he waited for her to look at him ''I thought I told you last time you asked,'' he managed hoarsely. This was a bad idea, a terrible one — ''I have no interest in being _friends_.''

''Oh.'' She was crestfallen. Then her brain kicked her. Emphasis. He'd told her _before_ she put on the ring … Merlin, she was daft! She'd only heard the negative! ''Oh!'' Brown eyes met black hopefully. Oh, poor man he looked positively gutted as he waited for her to respond … Flushing, Hermione cupped the side of his face and brushed her lips over his cheekbone. ''I would like that _very_ much, Severus.''

''As would I.''

The simmering hope and fire in his glittering eyes made heat pool in her belly. All of a sudden, with everything she'd wanted right here in front of her, her hair didn't seem so important. She closed her eyes in anticipation, leaning closer with her face upturned and lips parted, waiting for him.

Long fingers thrust themselves into her hair and his mouth lowered to hers. A millimeter away, he paused. ''Stuck, you say?''

Hermione could have killed him when he drew back and stalked over to the small kitchen area, rummaging through a cupboard. Didn't … didn't he want to kiss her …? Was her breath bad? She cast a Freshening Charm as discreetly as she could. Okay. Maybe she could convince him to try again...

''Give me your hand,'' he demanded brusquely. She complied, admiring the warmth of his calloused skin, the way the cold tips of his lank, damp hair brushed over her knuckles.

''Oh, gross!'' Something slimy touched her ring finger and she tried to take her hand back.

''Stop squirming,'' Severus snarled, continuing to apply butter to her hand and ignoring the way her hair was twining around his arm. He looked at his handiwork a moment, nodding to himself. He retrieved his kerchief, wiping off his fingers before grasping the ring firmly . ''On the count of three, pull your hand back. One.''

''Two,'' Hermione said, giving him a nervous smile.

''Three.'' Severus twisted the ring, Hermione pulled, and it slid off cleanly. She cheered, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. Their noses bumped and he tilted his head so the hook of his nose rested against her warm cheek. Her lips nibbled on his until they parted and they tasted each other. The ring bounced across the room to a corner and lay there, forgotten.

His breath was minty fresh and Hermione held him closer. She loved the feel of his scratchy wool frock coat under her hands, his firm, narrow chest against hers … Severus's fingers dug into her hair, combing through her curls. To her pleasure, the excess hair seemed to fall from her own locks. To sit without the weight … She moaned softly.

Panting lightly, Severus pulled back to look at her with heavy-lidded eyes. He'd dreamed of kissing her, of having her in his arms, and they all fell short of the reality even if the way it had come about was less than ideal.

Hermione smiled at him, cheeks flushed. ''I guess all I needed was a kiss from Prince Charming to break the curse.'' He snorted. Him, charming? ''Then again, I suppose it was for the better. I actually like my hair, and I got my heart's desire in the end. Er – there's not a rule against this, us, is there?''

''If there is, I'll tender my resignation.'' Severus brushed his knuckles against her cheek and tried not to look as besotted as he felt. ''I doubt it's any surprise that working here has long since become lackluster.''

Giggling, she kissed him again. ''We should tell Minerva and head up for breakfast.''

''Tell Minerva about us?'' His brow furrowed.

''I meant about the ring.''

''An infinitely preferable matter for discourse.'' Severus rose smoothly, offering Hermione his hand. He watched her tidy her things for a moment before silently summoning the ring to his hand. He'd stop by the owlery later and send it to Ronald Weasley with a compulsion charm. The boy needed to learn a lesson about giving unsuspecting people enchanted objects.

''There. Thank you for the use of your couch.''

''My pleasure.'' His voice was low and he practically purred the last word. Blushing, Hermione kissed him one more time for good measure. She couldn't wait to finish breakfast … and the day … and perhaps a great many years more.

* * *

''So you're …'' Minerva paused, hesitating.

''Together, yes,'' Hermione replied easily. She tucked an errant curl behind her ear, impatient for this to be over. All she'd wanted was to get permission for both Severus and her to get out of staying at the castle over the hols.

''For how long?''

''Only since we got that stupid ring off my finger, so just over a year, I suppose. There's nothing against it,'' Hermione added. ''I did check.''

Minerva waived her hand. ''But you were fighting just last week!''

Hermione laughed. ''It was just an argument. Happens all the time. We're not actually fighting, it's more about arguing for the fun of it.''

''Well, he never would be happy with just any witch.'' Minerva nearly choked on her brogue. ''You are a good match, you know. I always thought so, watching the two of you interact.''

''We'd have been together sooner if I'd actually listened to how he said something versus his actual words,'' she confided sheepishly.

''Severus has always been that way.''

Hermione looked about the Headmistress's office, admiring the worn leather-bound books for what was likely the hundredth time. ''So it's alright if I steal him away for Christmas?''

''Of course. I'll ask Filius to stay behind. We don't often have many students staying over, and I daresay Severus really does deserve it. What are your plans?''

Grinning, Hermione leaned forward in the plush chair. ''I'm taking him to meet my parents. Things are moving rather quickly for us, and we're rather settled together.''

''Some couples just know. It was like that for myself and Dougal. As much as I cared for El, I still wish I'd married him.'' She sighed, taking a firm bite of her biscuit.

* * *

''You what?'' Ron gasped, dropping the plate of gingerbread men. Molly repaired the plate with a flick, glaring at her youngest son. ''You never did!''

''We did,'' Hermione confirmed, grinning. ''Ran right off with Mum and Dad and got it done. Absolutely no fuss. We can have a larger ceremony later if people are insistent over it, but we're happy. A little quick to some, but it was right for us.''

''So where is the git?'' Harry asked.

She slapped his arm lightly, cringing as the Warbeck song playing on the wireless hit a particularly high note. ''Don't call him that. He's at his home — er, our home now, I suppose. He really didn't want to come and I wasn't about to force him.''

Harry and Ron just blinked at her. She couldn't blame them, it really was a bit of a shock, she supposed. Still, she was positively euphoric. Severus had all but moved into her quarters over ten months ago anyway, and they'd passed many nights agreeably sharing his quilt. Well, he called it sharing, but he was a bit of a cover-hog. At least it gave her reason to cuddle close to him …

''—mione … Earth to Hermione!'' Harry snapped his fingers and she jumped, spilling her cocoa. ''Sorry. Tergeo!''

''It's alright. My mind's wandering a bit, that's all.''

'''Sokay.'' Harry studied her, his green eyes serious behind his lenses. ''And you're happy? Really and truly happy?''

Her lips curved into a soft smile. ''Yes.''

''All because of that bloody ring, I can't believe it …'' The redhead shook his head in disbelief, then pulled her into a hug. ''You're mad. Brilliant, but mad. Congratulations, 'Professor Snape'.''

''Oh good god,'' Hermione breathed. ''The poor students.''

''More like poor you,'' Ron muttered. ''Soon as you leave, Mum'll start knitting you baby booties, just wait.''

''Merlin.'' Was her faint reply.

* * *

Hermione giggled. ''I'm going to get your toes …''

''No!'' shrieked a small voice. The little feet burrowed under the quilt.

''I've got your toes! Rawr!'' Hermione pounced gleefully. Her daughter leapt from the bed, wearing the worn quilt like a cape and her curly black hair fluffed out from her head.

''Daddy! Daddy help!'' Severus grunted as she barreled into his legs and he hit the floor with a wince. ''Mummy's trying to get my toes!''

He smirked at his wife. ''It looks to me that you're on your own.''

''Daaaaaad! You're not playing right! You're supposed to protect me. You're a Prince, Mummy says so!''

He raised two eyebrows at the witch in question. ''Is that so?''

''Mummy says you're Prince Charming and that you saved her from a curse with true love's kiss!''

''For the love of Merlin, Hermione …'' Exasperated, he looked at his wife, leaning back on his elbows.

''Isn't it true?'' Her pout was the stuff of Hogwarts legend already.

''In a manner of speaking,'' he hedged. ''There _was_ an enchantment involved, and I _did_ kiss her.''

Wide-eyed, Rose dropped down and sat on his legs. ''An enchantment?''

''Oh yes. It made her hair grow because she accidentally wished on a ring given to her by a foolish redheaded imbecile.'' He stopped at Hermione's warning glare not to disillusion his daughter regarding her beloved Uncle Ron.

''So it grew like Rapunzel's?''

''Only in multiple-colours,'' he said, warming to his tale. Hermione smiled at him, love in her eyes. ''Only she'd made two wishes. One for any hair but hers, and the other for me. Her hair grew and grew, always finding its way to me, often knocking me arse over teakettle.''

''Severus! Language!''

''I won't repeat it,'' she sulked. Severus smirked. ''Daddy's told me not to.''

''Oh, Merlin …''

''STORY!'' she demanded, cutting off her mother.

''Not if you whinge at me,'' he snapped. Rose quieted. ''Now then … Your mother's hair kept curling around me, and we couldn't make it stop growing. We managed to get the bloody ring off, and when we kissed for the first time, she was back to her normal hair. Now are you satisfied?''

''Yes! My daddy's a prince!'' Rose hugged him gleefully.

''Alright, you've had your tale, now let him up.'' She assisted them both to their feet. ''Rosie, go get your bag.'' She looked at Severus. ''Minerva will be okay with her all night?''

He scoffed. ''Of course she will. I told her if she didn't watch her, I'd put Gryffindor's entire Quidditch team in detention for a month.''

''Horrid man.''

''Would you desire me any other way?''

''Never.'' Hermione kissed him soundly. ''Happy anniversary, love.''

''Shut up and kiss me again, witch,'' Severus growled.

* * *

Fin.


End file.
